That Big Playground in the Sky
by giveyourimmortalitytome
Summary: Heaven reeked of dog poop and the sky always looked a few hours away from a torrential downpour. [JT Afterlife Oneshot]


A/N: This was inspired by a line from another one of my one-shots, _Somewhere, Something Incredible_ – when Mia imagines that JT is watching her "from Heaven or Elsewhere or that big Playground in the Sky." Well, that plot bunny simply would not leave me alone; thus, here's my weird little take on the afterlife.

And, also: Degrassi? Totally not mine.

It had been quite a long time since JT Yorke had died of a fatal tear in his aeorta.

Five years had passed.

JT spent those five years a number of ways: lying out under the massive oak tree, lost in thought; constructing meager castles in the sandbox; pushing himself half-heartedly down the slide. Pumping his legs to swing higher, _higher_. Scrambling to the top of the monkey bars with ease – then, recalling exactly how much height petrified him, taking another forty minutes to ease himself back down. Spinning himself round and round on the tire swing. Bouncing up and down on the swing bridge.

It had been five years, and JT had all but exhausted every feature his new home had to offer. Despite all the time he spent focusing on other pursuits, however – there was one activity he found took up a majority of his time.

Five years. One thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days.

He spent most of his time watching the world that marched on below him.

He still wasn't completely sure how the entire process worked, exactly – although most things that happened here were beyond human comprehension. He'd long ago stopped questioning – life was much easier if you accepted it, whatever _it _was, as it came.

The process was simple, really. JT would lie flat on his stomach, nose buried in the unnaturally green grass; and press his forehead into the ground. He would wait – sometimes it took a few seconds, sometimes much longer – until, without warning, the grass and the rocks and the dirt would swirl away, revealing the lives that JT had left behind.

He would remain there for hours, until his limbs were stiff and his forehead caked in dirt. He would squint in an effort to take it all in at once; shout out advice, even though no one would ever hear him. He would roll his eyes at their stupidity and choke back tears at their brilliance.

Despite everything, JT was still there – almost. As his class graduated and packed up their possessions; as they skimmed SparkNotes and wrote papers the morning they were due. He watched them through the mundane and the magnificent; holding his breath at every twist and turn. As those who remained struggled to accept the chaos and confusion that invaded their lives, JT simply watched.

Toby lost his virginity at twenty-two to a drunken sorority girl; both were on too many illegal substances to name. Liberty slaved away on her final thesis for forty-eight hours straight. Emma's activism grew violent; she attempted arson to prove a point and soon found herself facing more jail time than even Sean had accumulated. Manny resorted to desperate, X-rated measures to get her acting career off the ground.

As their lives twisted and twirled and fell apart, JT could do nothing but rip handfuls of grass in frustration as he… watched. Their lives shattered and crumbled; slowly, painfully reconstructed.

He knew their anguish was partly his fault. Mia wouldn't have left Toronto if it hadn't been for him; wouldn't have had to adjust to yet another awkward public school if he hadn't kicked it. Sean wouldn't have found a suitable scapegoat for the violence within him – wouldn't have spent another year in jail for aggravated assault. (He was in the same block as the boy who killed JT, although neither knew. Sometimes life was funny like that.) Liberty might have found happiness at university, instead of even more stress and depression and loneliness.

Things would have been different, if JT hadn't died. He was the glue that held his group together – that was something not even he realized until their decade-old bond crumbled.

But what could he do of that now?

Nothing, really; nothing except press his forehead into the grass and watch. Watch as they all graduated, yet again. Watched as they moved into tiny apartments and counted out pennies to pay the delivery guy. Watched as they fetched coffee for bosses and dreamed of things much bigger.

(Liberty landed an internship at the New York Times; Manny a part in an Adam Brody flick. Emma and Sean split – she to the Peace Corps and he, to the Army. Mia finally found the courage to return to Toronto, if only for a few hours. Toby found a girl who remembered his name and smiled when he called.)

As they fucked up and settled and sobbed – succeeded and aspired and laughed – JT watched. He regretted every second that he spent watching; every moment that he missed. He counted the seconds until Drake Matthew Lempke bit it, so JT could finally act on his long brewing vengeance. Sadly, the murderer was still alive and well in maximum-security, so JT could do nothing but wait. Wait, watch, and wish that things were different.

After a few hours – or a few days; time was intangible here – JT would slowly sit up. Wipe the bits of grass and ground off his bloody white tee-shirt. Shake out the limbs that had fallen asleep long ago. Stand up, blowing his bangs out of his face and wiping away tears.

He would then find some other way to occupy his time: the swing set, the tire swing, the monkey bars. The slide or the see-saw. Anything to get the images of Toby, drunk and laughing; Liberty, stressed but smiling; Emma, bitter yet hopeful – out of his head. Anything to forget that their lives had marched on without him.

Before he had actually died, JT had always assumed that heaven would be a happy place. Whenever he gave the place any thought – which wasn't often – he imagined fluffy white clouds, soothing harp music, light so bright you had to squint. He had always figured he'd arrive wrinkly and stooped over; spend the rest of eternity waltzing with angels.

It wasn't like that, though – not at all. Heaven reeked of dog poop and the sky always looked a few hours away from a torrential downpour. JT was seventeen years old with nothing but a slide that was far too small for him for company. His friends, his life, his world – it staggered on miles and eons and light years beneath him. Some day, years from now, Mia would go through the motions of an entire day without thinking his name. Toby would stop feeling that pang of guilt every time he bought a comic book. Liberty would fall in love.

And JT would hang by his knees from the monkey bars. Hold on for dear death to the whirring merry-go-round. Pull himself up the lame little rock-climbing wall. Carve his initials into the nearby oak tree.

Maybe, once their times came, his friends would join him. Maybe he'd reunite with Liberty under the shade of the tree; race Toby to the top of the monkey bars. Push Manny higher, _higher_. Construct a sandcastle dream house with Mia. Get into a vicious woodchip fight with Sean. Spin Emma on the merry-go-round until she puked, like that time in grade three.

Maybe, some day, he wouldn't be so alone. Maybe, some day, heaven would come to resemble what he had always imagined.

Until then, JT was simply going to have to be content with the swings, the woodchips, the loneliness. He would simply have to watch and wait. Accept and adjust to life – if you could even call it that – in this playground in the sky.


End file.
